


Just breathe

by myrish_lace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Confessions, Cousins, F/M, Family Secrets, Godswood, One Shot, Panic Attacks, R plus L equals J, Shared traits, This is a little darker than my usual fluff, Winterfell, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Summary: Jon and Sansa share a Stark family trait - panic attacks. It plays out in different ways at different times in each of their lives. The attacks help them relate to each other after they take back Winterfell, when they come together in the godswood. Sansa sees Jon in the godswood again years later, the night before their arranged marriage, after the war has been won.





	Just breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zip001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/gifts).



> A little one-shot that helped me get through today. Thanks for reading, and thanks to Zip001 for the reminder to just breathe :)

_Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe_.

It would happen to Sansa, sometimes, at King’s Landing, after a day of being told she was a traitor and had traitor's blood. After all her songs were sung and she was left in her room with nothing but the ugly, cold truth - her father was in a cell and she was a prisoner of war. Trapped in a tower like a bird without wings.

She'd try to put a pretty story together in her head. To go somewhere far away. But the tale would burst into fragments, into shards, the words refusing to string together in a row. She’d be left frustrated, crying, and lost.

_I don't even believe myself when I talk. Why should they? Why should the they believe a stupid girl with treason in her bones?_

She would sit on her bed, her head in her hands. And try to breathe, and try to breathe and try to breathe.

***  
It would happen to Jon sometimes, after meetings of the Night’s Watch.

When he’d recently assumed command, and his authority was constantly challenged and questioned. He’d speak plainly and firmly as the Lord Commander, over and over again. Then he’d see grey spots at the the corner of his eyes, and he’d have to excuse himself.

He’d close the door to his room and lean against it, feeling like he’d escaped in the nick of time.

_I’m a bastard son with no right to lead. They think I betrayed them beyond the Wall. Why should they listen? Why should they follow a traitorous crow whose heart might still belong to the wildlings?_

Jon would sit on his bed with his head in his hands, and try to breathe, and try to breathe, and try to breathe.

***  
Years later, Sansa and Jon held council meetings together after reclaiming Winterfell.

One day Sansa put her hand over her mouth to hide a gasp. Jon thought he recognized the motion. Sansa saw him looking. “It's fine Jon it's just-”

He broke in. “Need some air?” Something about the look that passed between them made her feel like he understood. Suddenly, she could get air a little further into her lungs.

She gave him a quick smile and they found a moment to slip away to the godswood. They each leaned back against the smooth bark.

“It happens when I doubt myself,” she said after a while.

“That's when it happens to me too,” he said. “Family trait maybe?”

She took his hand and tilted her head up to look at the red leaves overhead.

“This would work for me sometimes in the godswood at King's Landing.”

“Looking at the leaves?” Jon’s face was upturned, and he seemed confused.  

“Just don't - don't actually look at them, Jon. Look at how the breeze moves them.”

She saw the shapes the leaves made against the sky, scattered back and forth by the wind.

“I used to worry I wouldn't be able to tell the truth,” she said. “Or maybe that I didn’t know what the truth was anymore. There were times I couldn’t string words together. But the trees don't judge.”

“They make their own song even if we can't hear it,” Jon said.  “I took my vows under trees like these.”

 _And left me in the godswood at King's Landing_ , Sansa thought.

“I should have come for you,” Jon whispered, as if she’d spoken aloud. His voice cracked.

Sansa was still watching the leaves dance.

 _Past, past, past,_  they murmured.  

“It's gone, it's over, it's done, Jon. We're back, in this godswood. Back home.”

They stood there hand-in-hand and they didn't know it, but their breathing fell into the same rhythm.

***

Three years later, after the death of the dragon queen, after the war, Jon came back to her. He wasn’t her brother anymore. He was her cousin, half-foreign, and soon to be her husband.

On the night before their wedding, she sat on her bed, and tried to breathe, and tried to breathe, and tried to breathe. Finally she gave up and slipped out to the godswood.

Jon was already there, leaning back against the tree. He was staring up at the leaves.

The full moon lent the woods and pond a dreamlike quality, as if they could pretend to be other people.

She came to stand beside him. “I'm here because I needed some air,” she said. “I'm marrying tomorrow.”

Jon didn’t turn his head as she settled in next to him and looked up.

“Has he - has he done anything, to frighten you, the man you’re to marry?” Jon’s voice was small.

“I frighten myself,” she said, as the leaves whistled above them. “I haven't - it hasn't gone well with me, with men. How about you?”

“I’m marrying tomorrow too. She's beautiful and she's too far above me and I hope the one thing I can do for her is give her home back to her.” She half-saw, half-felt Jon close his eyes. “None of the rest of it matters.”

“It'll be your home too,” she said.

“Maybe.”

Sansa reached for his hand, like she had so many years ago. “She sounds lonely. Like it's been a long war for her. Like-” A lump rose in her throat as she looked up at the leaves. “Like she wants a chance at peace.”

Sansa took a deeper breath, and got air most of the way into her chest. “She’ll not want to share her bed at first.”

“She won't have to,” Jon said in a rush. “Not ever, if she doesn't want.”

 _Ever is a long, long time_ , the leaves murmured.

“Do you think her husband would try after a while? With her?”

She brushed her fingertips with his.

After a moment, Jon laced his fingers with hers. They were warm, even through his gloves.

“Aye. If - if that's what she wanted.”

They stood there hand-in-hand and they didn't know it, but their breathing fell into the same rhythm once again on that winter night.


End file.
